I’m The Male Lead’s Biological Daughter, But I Want To Live With The Second Male Lead! - Chapter 80

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 80
The reason Lillian, who ought to have been in the Imperial Capital, was now in the Grand Duchy had everything to do with Winter.
A few days prior, she’d heard that Zigmund had rescued a White Lion during a sweep of the remaining poachers.
Ordinarily, Beastman families looked after Beastmen alone—not animals.
But a White Lion was no ordinary creature; its rarity set it apart.
Thus Wingrion, the White Lion family, had taken it upon themselves to oversee the creatures’ care.
Knowing this, Lillian had expected Zigmund to send the beast to her.
Yet the report that reached her contained something utterly absurd.
‘Since Mabel has taken a liking to it, I shall raise it myself.’
Given that Zigmund was the one involved, Lillian had resolved not to make much of it.
But just yesterday, her lady’s maid had brought her startling news.
—The young lady Mabel says she saw a most brilliant light in the cave.
—After being exposed to that radiant light, all the wounds on both the White Lion and the young lady healed without a trace.
A brilliant light capable of healing wounds—the very notion was extraordinary.
This was a power that existed in neither Beastman abilities nor artifacts.
‘Not unless magic had existed in some distant past…….’
Yet there was something even more astonishing.
—Though I cannot say for certain, that White Lion appears to be a Beastman.
Zigmund’s letter had contained no such information.
And for good reason—the light Mabel claimed to have seen and the fact of the White Lion’s true nature lacked corroboration.
One could hardly report such uncertainties to the Empress.
‘But what if…… what if the Grand Duke deliberately concealed it?’
Behind his back, people called Zigmund the sleeping lion.
So long as no one touched the matter of ‘Alchemy,’ he remained still.
Yet that very truth suggested another: Zigmund did not stir unless the matter concerned Alchemy.
So Zigmund had hidden the fact that the White Lion was a Beastman……?
Knowingly, despite Wingrion’s protection of not only Beastmen but animals as well?
This was decidedly suspicious.
‘He is said to be redoubling his Alchemical research, taking Asilonia’s young lady as his assistant.’
Perhaps his heart had shifted, and he was now using Beastmen as research materials.
Thus, Lillian had come today to uncover the truth of these rumors.
When she heard that Mabel had ventured into the market district, she dismissed her escort so as not to be recognized.
Yet the Magic Stone had exhausted itself at precisely that moment, and her Disguise Artifact’s power had failed.
‘I wish I had been more careful then.’
Regrettably, Lillian had received a report days prior that the remaining poacher gangs had been arrested.
She had assumed things would settle, and grown careless.
She had not foreseen that those whose eyes had gone wild for a White Lion Beastman would charge forward so recklessly.
“Never mind. Rise. It was I who set you upon them, and in the end no harm has come to pass.”
“We are most deeply sorry.”
The escort knights apologized once more before standing quietly.
Since they had been following at a distance, even if she had been taken by the kidnappers, little true damage would have resulted.
‘The only thing I could not prevent was knowledge of the Empress’s secret visit to the Grand Duchy spreading.’
It was fortunate that Mabel had helped when she did.
“What do you wish to do now?” the captain of the guard asked.
He meant: should they continue following from a distance, or press close now that the young lady had departed?
At this, Lillian gazed down at her own hands for a moment.
In them lay the salve and bandages Mabel had given her, along with a Magic Stone.
A clever child, carrying such useful things compactly in so small a bag.
And more than that—she had told Lillian what she had wished most to hear.
—This child is a Beastman, you see.
‘Winter…… she said.’
Judging by how she named the creature and carried it close, it did not seem she intended to use it as research material.
If so, then Lillian had achieved the purpose of her coming here.
‘Yet that child…….’
Lillian recalled Winter, nestled tightly in Mabel’s embrace.
The short, matted fur aside, Winter had cried with a thin, delicate sound—for all the world like a kitten.
Eight years ago, the child who had wept in her arms for the first time had cried just so.
Not like a White Lion, but fragile, helpless as a newborn cat.
‘……No. I am thinking too much.’

Perhaps he knows how to cry properly, but is putting on airs in front of Mabel.
As cats are wont to do.
Was it because I’d seen a young White Lion beastman after so long?
In my agitation, useless thoughts kept branching out in my mind.
Lillian forcibly cut short her wandering thoughts, pulling the hood over her head as she turned to leave.
“I’ll return to the palace.”
The things Mabel had given her were still clutched tightly in Lillian’s hands.
* * *
Meanwhile, at the Furniture Workshop, one craftsman faced sudden unemployment.
Dorothy, the ninth-generation master artisan who had just encountered the greatest crisis of her life, bowed her head apologetically.
“I’m terribly sorry, but could you explain it one more time?”
“Exactly! It’s like this—papers just stacked on top of each other, right? And then you go scratch-scratch-scratch! With your claws, like that!”
Mabel enthusiastically explained it to Dorothy again.
Yet despite this being the fourth explanation, Dorothy still looked utterly confused.
Mabel, frustrated beyond measure, slapped her own chest.
In the process, Ella suddenly thrust her hand forward and ended up patting only Ella’s own palm.
In any case, Mabel was thoroughly exasperated.
‘Why doesn’t anyone know what a cat scratcher is?!’
But truthfully, their ignorance was only natural.
People typically used cats to catch rats, not keeping them caged as household pets.
This empire had plenty of stray cats and outdoor cats, but no house cats whatsoever.
So of course there was no concept of an object needed for cats to relieve stress in the home.
“Oh, give me some paper!”
Mabel ended up drawing crude sketches on large sheets while explaining.
“It looks like this, like this….”
At that point, Dorothy seemed to grasp something and began asking questions.
“What thickness should this paper be? This would be a consumable item, wouldn’t it?”
Now conversation was finally beginning to flow.
So Mabel and Dorothy designed cat scratchers in various shapes together.
Though Winter, the actual user in question, seemed utterly indifferent.
* * *
A week later.
Dorothy arrived with the cat scratchers she had ordered.
“Yes! This is it, this is it!”
Success on the very first attempt!
As expected of a genius who had inherited the master craftsman’s position at twenty-nine.
Mabel bounced excitedly from her seat, delighted that the cat scratcher had turned out exactly as she’d envisioned.
Mabel immediately grabbed the cat scratcher and headed toward Winter.
Winter, whose fur had grown in somewhat over the past week, was sprawled out on the bed, napping contentedly.
“Winter, Winter! Look at this!”
Mabel held out the cat scratcher to Winter with an expression of eager anticipation.
But contrary to Mabel’s hopes, Winter showed no interest in the cat scratcher whatsoever.
“Don’t you know how to use it? Here, you do it like this. Scratch-scratch!”
Mabel, who had been scratching at the scratcher herself, grabbed Winter’s thick paw and showed him by doing the same.
She pressed down forcefully to extend his claws and dragged them across the scratcher, producing a satisfying scratching sound.
Yet Winter merely yawned leisurely, showing no sign of interest whatsoever.
At his blatant indifference, Mabel’s expression fell.
“Winter, don’t you like it?”
Then immediately, words appeared above Winter’s head.
[No. I am a cat.]
“Huh?”
[Therefore. There is. No interest.]
And with that, he turned his head away with a dismissive snort, making clear his utter lack of concern.
“But he answered just fine when I called him a cat before….”
As her carefully prepared gift proved useless, Mabel’s disappointment was profound.
Winter could have humored her easily enough, but he chose not to.
In fact, Winter had been defying Mabel lately.
Not out of rebelliousness or anything of that sort.
[There is. Interest.]
[If. You wish. Mabel.]
“Really?”
Mabel’s eyes brightened as she caught sight of the words floating above Winter’s head.
[Instead. Conditions.]
[Pregnancy. Responsibility.]
“Ugh, you again~ with that same thing?”
[Responsibility.]
[There is. A child.]
[In my belly.]
“That’s why I’m telling you, you’re a man so you can’t get pregnant!”
[Yesterday too. We slept. Together. Holding hands.]
“Even if we held hands sleeping for a hundred nights, it won’t happen, because you’re a man!”
[Negotiation. Failed.]
[Not interested.]
Winter turned his head away with a decisive snap.
It was true.
For the past several days, Winter had been making this bewildering proposal to Mabel—that she take responsibility for his child.
This absurd courtship had begun a week ago.
It started the evening they returned from the Market District, when Zigmund dropped a bombshell at dinner.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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